Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing
full of a desperate emotion that was somewhere between grief and fury. I took to looking out for her return so I could smuggle her in without Cezar noticing.
Two days short of Dark of the Moon, Aunt Bogdana visited Piscul Dracului with her seamstress, and we gathered in the formal dining room after breakfast for another fitting. Iulia stood on the table in her stockings while the seamstress pinned up the hem of the decorous dove-gray creation. My sister was scowling. She plucked at the high-cut neckline, experimenting to see whether it could be rendered just a little more revealing.
“Iulia, I can see you don’t care for this,” Aunt said, not un-kindly. “Believe me, it’s not the young men you need to impress, it’s their mothers, and you won’t do that if you’re falling out of your bodice, dear. Leave that alone, it’s the appropriate cut for you at thirteen. We might add a bow at the back: that will look girlish while showing off your pretty figure. I wonder if we can have just a little dancing. . . . It seems rather silly to refrain on Nicolae’s account, when he enjoyed it so much himself. . . .”
“We’ll do whatever you think proper, Aunt Bogdana,” I said.
The seamstress straightened up; she had finished adjusting Iulia’s hem.
“Very well, Iulia, you’re done,” said Aunt Bogdana. “Step down. Carefully—mind those pins. Stela! You’re next!”
I heard a commotion, voices, footsteps, from the hallway outside. One of the voices was Cezar’s. “A celebration!” he was saying, his words loud and uneven, as if he was too excited to control it. “Florica, we’ll have hot ¸ tuica˘ and some food. We 182
won’t stay here long—this news needs to go straight down to Judge Rinaldo. Who’d have thought it, eh? To feel the wretch’s skinny neck in my own hands!”
“Jena,” Aunt Bogdana said quietly as she helped Stela up onto the table, “go out and ask my son what has happened.”
Heart thumping, I did as she asked. None of my sisters offered to go with me. In the kitchen, Cezar, his two friends, and several other men were shedding their outdoor clothing, their layers of wool steaming in the warmth from the big stove, while Florica busied herself with platters and cups, obeying Cezar’s demand that she serve them. I halted in the doorway.
Cezar turned from hanging his cloak on a peg and met my eye.
His face was flushed with what seemed to be triumph. He strode across and seized both my hands in his.
“Congratulate me, Jena! We made a capture last night!”
I thought of Tadeusz, so cool and controlled; I thought of somber-faced Sorrow, holding Tati’s cloak for her. My voice would not oblige me by framing an intelligent question.
“Sit down, Jena. I can see I’ve shocked you. I should have broken the news more gently. Florica, some water for Mistress Jena, please.”
“What’s happened?” I croaked. “You caught one of the Night People? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not one of them, ” said Daniel. “Another one of the forest folk, an accomplice. He was hanging about in the woods, up to no good. Cezar thought he might lead us to the Night People.
Give us useful information.”
“He would have done.” It was clear that Cezar wanted to 183
tell this story himself. “If the wretch hadn’t decided to fight us, we could have locked him up and got what we wanted out of him.”
Every part of me had turned cold. “An accomplice. What kind of accomplice?”
“A dwarf. No doubt where he was from. I offered the fellow freedom in return for information, but he wouldn’t have any of it. Fought like a little demon. Bit Daniel on the hand; nearly took my eye out with his boot. Didn’t have a chance, of course.”
Anatolie. I could not ask, What color was his beard? Did he have diamond studs in his teeth? Was he an old friend of mine? “You mean you took him prisoner?” I asked, thinking that any dwarf could escape from human custody, given time. What had he been doing out in our world by night at such a time of risk?
Cezar’s features were suddenly grave. “No, Jena. These folk are not so easily taken. We used various methods to try to make the little devil talk, but he had nothing to say about Night People or about ways in and out of their realm. In the end, he perished for his silence. There was no alternative. We could not let him go free. These vermin must be cleared from our forest.
Those who cover for the perpetrators of crimes are, in their way, just as guilty as the criminals.”
They’d killed him. Just like that, he’d lost his life for something he’d had no responsibility for. The dwarves were peace-able folk; they could have played no part in Ivona’s death.
Various methods . . . Surely Cezar didn’t mean torture?
“It doesn’t sound like cause for congratulation,” I found myself saying. My voice wobbled. “You caught, hurt, and killed someone without knowing if he had any responsibility for the 184
murder. And you didn’t get any information. You spilled more blood, and for nothing.”
There was a sudden silence. All the men were staring at me.
By the stove Florica stood utterly still, the kettle in her hands.
“Jena,” Cezar said in a dangerous, quiet voice, “I think it’s best if you leave us now. We men are weary; it’s been a long night’s struggle. You need a little time to digest this news. Distress is making you irrational.”
“A long night’s struggle? A pack of—what—ten or eleven men against one dwarf ?” I was on my feet, so angry that I let the words spill out without caution. “Forgive me if I cannot agree that this is some kind of victory.”
“Leave the room, Jena.” Now Cezar spoke sharply; it was a command. “I will not have words of that kind spoken here in the valley, not while I am master of Vârful cu Negur˘a. Please curb your tongue. Florica, where’s that ¸ tuica˘?”
One of the hardest things I had to do was break this news to my sisters in Aunt Bogdana’s presence, not knowing how each of them might respond. I was quivering with rage and humiliation after Cezar’s reprimand, and full of horror over what he had done. All I wanted to do was run away somewhere by myself with Gogu and cry like a child. But the voices of my cousin and his friends were loud and excited as they went over their exploits; it could only get worse as the ¸ tuica˘ flowed. I needed to be first with this news, to render it gently. I did try.
“Cezar killed a dwarf ?” Iulia found her voice first.
Stela, halfway through taking off her party dress, was staring round-eyed, her chin beginning to wobble.
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“Aunt Bogdana,” said Paula, her own voice less than steady,
“I might take Stela upstairs.”
“Of course, dear—your gown doesn’t have much work left to do. This is odd news. I did not think Cezar . . . It’s quite disturbing.” A loud gust of laughter reached us from the kitchen.
I was watching Tati. She stood by the wall, white and staring, as the sounds of hilarity filtered through the door.
Then she turned and left the room without a word.
“I don’t think Tatiana’s very well, Jena,” said my aunt quietly. “She’s grown so thin, and she often seems . . . not quite all there. I wonder if you should consult an herbalist? I can recommend someone, if you wish.”
“Thank you, Aunt. I’ll consider that.” I realized she was speaking to me as if I were head of the household, as if I were the one in charge. Listening to Cezar’s voice, remembering what he had just said to me—wounding words, the words of a tyrant—I knew that if I had ever been in charge of anything at Piscul Dracului, I was no longer.
The next morning, the landholders of the valley awoke as usual and went out to check their stock. On every farm, on every smallholding, an animal was found slaughtered. There was no consistency in what was chosen, only in the method of killing.
On one farm it was a sheep, on another a pig. One family found a beloved dog lying limp across the doorstep. Some had been luckier, finding only a chicken gone, while some had lost their cow, the standby of every household. The valley’s cows were not simply valued for the milk they provided over spring and summer, or for the calves they bore. Over the warmer months 186
they all went out to graze the mountain pastures together, gathered up by a herdsman in the morning at each gateway, and returned in the evening to be milked again. Each animal knew its own gate and waited there for admittance; each knew its own human family. That morning, eight cows lay in their blood, their throats slit. Eight families had lost an essential part of their livelihood as well as an honored friend.
The news reached us early—Ivan came up to tell us, his face pale. He had been fortunate to lose only one of his ducks. He went out with Petru to check our own stock. Most were housed over the winter in outbuildings near the castle, but we did have a flock of hardy ewes in the sheepfold near the forest’s margin. There was nothing untoward in the barn or the byre or the outbuildings—the animals looked healthy and demanded their breakfast. While the men went off to the upper pasture, I fed the chickens and Iulia tended to the pigs, and Paula and Stela made themselves useful in the kitchen, helping Florica with a batch of bread. Cezar and his friends were still asleep after another long night’s hunting; they would be hungry when they awoke. Tati had not made an appearance.
Ivan and Petru were gone awhile. The upper pasture was covered in snow; for most of the winter, the sheep were dependent on hay carried up to their shelter. I stayed outside the barn, chopping firewood with unnecessary violence. Images of blood and death passed before my eyes. I did not know any longer whether I believed that filling Piscul Dracului with colored lights and music and laughter could have any effect at all on the Night People. Something was happening that seemed far too powerful for that small gesture of defiance to hold any 187
weight. And, though I was filled with dread at the prospect, I wondered whether I should after all take a different path to try to stop it. Tonight was Dark of the Moon. If I crossed over to the Other Kingdom, could I hope to change the way things were? If I looked in Dr˘agu¸ta’s mirror, would I be given the secrets of the future, so I could make it come out differently?
But maybe I was fooling myself, pretending that my motive was selfless when, underneath, it was dark temptation that drew me.
Jena.
Gogu had been sitting on a tree stump, wincing every time my ax split a log. I stopped chopping. “What is it, Gogu?” I took him in my hand; he was trembling. It came to me suddenly that it could have been him, that I could have woken to find him stretched out dead beside me on the pillow, slaughtered as callously as those other animals had been.
Tell me what you are thinking.
“I can’t. It will make you angry.”
Tell me. I am your friend.
“I’m afraid. All I really want to do is be a complete coward and hide from all this. We can stop visiting the Other Kingdom so we don’t give away any secrets. We can hold our party and pretend that we’re not afraid of the Night People. But I don’t believe those things are enough to put this right. Ileana’s folk wouldn’t slaughter people’s stock. She said it herself— That is not our way—when she spoke to me about punishing Cezar. Her folk respect creatures; they don’t perform arbitrary killings.
This is the work of the Night People. But it’s not vengeance for 188
the dwarf—he wasn’t one of their kind. It’s Tadeusz, playing games. It’s sheer mischief, malicious teasing, designed to stir up unrest. I’m sure it’s my fault. If I hadn’t let him bewitch me . . .”
My head was full of that beguiling voice. Its soft darkness still drew me, despite all common sense.
What are you planning?
“Nothing.” But I was lying, and I thought he knew it.
When Petru and Ivan returned to the castle, their faces grave, I expected to be told of a loss. But they had counted the flock three times over, and all our sheep were still alive and well. It seemed that Piscul Dracului had escaped the slaughter.
Maybe, Petru said, other farms had also been spared—some were too far away to have made a report yet.
Before day’s end, Judge Rinaldo called a meeting down in the village. Cezar went, and so did Petru. The news they brought back sent a chill through me. Of all the households in the entire valley, ours was the only one that had not lost an animal to this scourge. Piscul Dracului had been singled out for special treatment. It was not to do with castles and cottages—
one treatment for the wealthy, one for the common folk—for Cezar’s farm at Vârful cu Negur˘a had lost a breeding ewe.
Cezar was beside himself with fury. Questions had been asked in public as to why our house—situated so close to the edge of the wildwood—should be different from any other.
One very old man had muttered something about Piscul Dracului being a place of mystery, a home of hidden perils and secret doors. Petru had told him he was an addle-pated old fool, but the damage was done. Once one tale came out, other folk had 189
more to add. Someone suggested that the reason the place had stood empty for so long was that it concealed a gateway of some kind—that within its walls was a portal where worlds met.
Our cousin assembled us in the kitchen—all five sisters, with Florica and Petru. R˘azvan and Daniel were looking uncomfortable by the door, as if stationed there to keep us from escaping. Perhaps Cezar had forgotten that this was our own house.
“I’m very unhappy,” he said. “Deeply disturbed by what has happened, and by what folk are saying. If I believed for a moment that any one of you was hiding something, that information existed which could help me apprehend these murder-ers and that you were holding it back, I would—” He stopped, then turned on Florica. “You’ve been here for years, since the days of the old owner. What’s all this talk of secret passageways and hidden entrances? Don’t try to tell me you don’t know.”
His tone was intimidating: Florica paled and shrank away from him. Petru put his hand on her shoulder.
“Cezar,” I said, “you can’t interrogate Florica as if she were a criminal.”
His brows creased into a ferocious scowl. “I’ll do whatever is required to drive this menace from our forest, Jena. Personal bonds and old loyalties must be set aside when people’s lives are at stake. You didn’t see that fellow we caught. These folk are evil, through and through. And I will not be the target of vicious tongues in the community. I will not allow accusations of this kind to taint my reputation. If there’s any truth in them, 190
I want it out in the open, right now. In your father’s absence, I speak as head of the family. Perhaps you girls lack a full understanding of the danger we are facing. But you must know what these rumors could do. Let folk associate such tales with the five of you, and your chances of making advantageous matches will be reduced to nothing. Nobody wants a wife with the taint of the wildwood about her.”
